


Assholes Don't Get Salvation

by Why_SoSer1ous



Series: Michael Guerin's Jealousy [3]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alex deserves the world, Alex is only human, Almost smut because I'm a coward, Anger, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Sad and Happy ending, almost cheating, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 05:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29745462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Why_SoSer1ous/pseuds/Why_SoSer1ous
Summary: “I heard you, this morning,” he said. “You were mumbling in your sleep.”Alex didn’t look up from the floor. Forrest couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or concern. “You’ve been doing it all week. Saying his name. Saying―”“Yes,” Alex replied before he could go any further. “Yes, I’ve been dreaming about him,” He looked up from the floor and tried to avoid Forrest’s eyes because it just made him feel worse. “I’m sorry.”“Why? Why are you sorry?”“They’re lucid,” he blurted out. “They’re lucid and I enjoy it.”
Relationships: Forrest Long/Alex Manes, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: Michael Guerin's Jealousy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2131287
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	Assholes Don't Get Salvation

Alex woke up to soft breath on his neck. A minuscule tremor that could have been mistaken for a short gust of wind escaping from the outside world. 

He smiled.

Alex had barely slept since he’d got back from Iraq. An altercation he’d fuelled through coffee and overworking that kept his eyes open long enough to miss a day or two. Enough to force his body to shut down and fall asleep by itself. That way, he could make it through the night without the PTSD triggers creeping in and destroying his nightly bliss of silence. 

Last night he had slept through. His boyfriend by his side and his soft curly hair brushing against his―

Alex pushed himself up.

A little too quickly because he’d managed to wake the sleeping man beside him. But, not the man he thought he’d fallen asleep next to the night before. 

“Alex, are you ok?” Michael asked through sleep-locked eyes. 

He’d pushed himself to the far side of the bed, enough room between them so they weren’t touching. But, that was quickly averted when Michael shuffled closer to wrap his left arm over Alex’s bare torso so he was holding him close to his chest. 

“Babe, is something wrong? You’re all tense.”

“I...What―?” Alex muttered, the words falling from his mind like sand in a glass. He was confused, to say the least, but was met with instability when Michael was touching his skin. A great sense of relief overcame him though, and that just made him more self-conscious. 

Michael sidled closer, wrapping his other arm underneath Alex’s back so he was holding him completely in one big embrace. Alex trapped in his strong arms. 

“Michael?” he asked as a question. Worried that it had come out too sceptical. 

“Mmm,” he responded, his face nestling closer to Alex’s neck. “It’s still early, let me hold you for ten minutes.”

“Michael, how did you get here?”

He lifted his head at that. Still close to Alex’s chest, but an odd look in his eyes that was pressured by the way Alex had asked him. “I know you said you wanted to take it slow, but I didn’t think that meant forgetting the amazing night of sex we just had.”

Alex shuddered when Michael gave him a big cheesy grin. One he had once thought was adorable when his hair was ruffled and he had no clothes on. But, this time was different. The apparent night they’d had was lost in his mind and Alex was starting to regret everything he had thought was real up until that point. 

When Michael started laying little kisses across his chest, Alex had to remove himself from his grasp. In doing so, he pushed too hard and fell out of the bed, hitting his head on the hardwood floor. 

“Ah, shit!”

“Alex―? Oh, my God, are you ok?”

He held his head as he heard the other man leave the bed to get down on the floor. His eyes were unfocused but when he came to, the familiar blue tint of hair and the worried smile came into focus. He sighed out of relief. 

“Alex, what happened?” Forrest said, getting down on his knees. “You were muttering in your sleep which was adorable until you started tossing and fell out.”

Alex’s eyes wandered. His crutch had fallen on its side amongst the collateral during his fall. Not for the first time, he reminded himself to move it to a more secure position. Whereas his prosthetic was tucked neatly underneath the bed in one of the drawers he had installed before he moved back to Roswell. A single assistance he’d allowed himself that deferred from anyone else with two functioning legs. His eyes gazed up at Forrest. There was worry. Always worry. But he couldn’t help it if he tried. There was too much compassion and empathy that took ahold of him. Alex wasn’t sure if he loved or hated him for that. 

Forrest had put his hand up to the back of Alex’s head, checking to see if he’d caused any slight head trauma from hitting the ground. Alex shook his head and knocked his hand away, but when he persisted he placed his own on top of Forrest’s to stop him from moving. Then, gave him a smile. 

“I’m fine, honestly,” he said, a little perturbed, “Just a bad dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No―” he said too quickly. “I’m just, er, I’m going to shower―yes! That’s what I’m going to do.”

Forrest sighed, feeling blocked out when Alex steadied himself and pulled himself up to the edge of the bed. He leant down to pick up his crutch and steadied himself again before standing up like every other normal day. Picking up his prosthetic, he then muttered under his breath. Glazed over enough that Forrest couldn’t tell if he was talking or just breathing out. Forrest turned his head, allowing Alex the privacy of not having to show anybody weakness. Even if it was his goddamn boyfriend. 

Moments later he heard the bathroom door shut, the water turn on, and the soft patter of misaligned water droplets hitting skin at an inconsistent rate.

Alex let the water fall. More to calm his nerves than anything else. He leant on the support bar that he was begrudgingly grateful had also been installed in his house. When he’d threatened to break the arm of the poor plumber that had suggested a seat, he suggested the alternative and was thankful the man hadn’t sued him for harassment. Though, that was also probably due to his injury as well. Military history served well in certain circumstances. 

Leaning against the wall beforehand had been a problem and a half. His balance had definitely improved since then, but he almost always had to let the showerhead manually wash the new bottom of his right leg. Leaning down was too much of a hardship and Alex didn’t need to be told to know he needed some kind of aid. This way, he was happy, the plumber was happy. 

Now all he had to worry about was the semi-lucid dream. 

Alex hadn’t realised the temperature had dropped in the shower until the cool spray made him shiver. He mindlessly thanked it for bringing him back to reality. The nightmare―not that he considered it that―was playing over and over in his head. Michael had been trapped in his subconscious for weeks now, and those weeks he’d been playing house with his actual boyfriend. The boyfriend that wanted to be his. The boyfriend that hadn’t made him wait before it was too late. The boyfriend that was hot and sexy and vulnerable and there. 

He was just there. 

So why had Alex dreamt of Michael instead? In his bed and in his life, having mind-blowing sex that was too good to remember. It was all a haze that had happened out of his control. 

Alex pondered, letting the water continue to slide down his body without interruption. Too much had obviously not been enough to subside the undercurrent pressures of desire. Had that been the case, Michael wouldn’t have appeared for the third time that same week. It was only Wednesday. And it wasn’t as though he wasn’t having sex with Forrest, and it wasn’t as though it wasn’t amazing. Just different. With a different person. His person that still made him dream of Michael fucking Guerin. 

The cold was starting to fill the room now and Alex could feel it all. He supposed he wanted it to counteract the obscenities that plagued his mind, but it only made it worse because he was too cold now and needed to feel the warm summer’s air. 

He leant on the side of the bath, hopped out of the shower and was instantly hit with a warmer aroma. He stood for several seconds, consuming the heat in his nakedness. There was a thin stream of light coming from the window in the corner of the room. It hit his body from behind and he leant into it. Softly. Steadily. Wanting. 

Letting out a sigh, he picked up his sleeve and prosthetic, taking the time to put it on. He didn’t usually in the early morning, but he wanted to stretch his leg. His sweatpants that he’d left on the radiator to warm up were next. He put them on so they hung loosely at his waist. Then, checking his hair in the steamed mirror and almost falling over his other clothes on the floor; he managed to haphazardly pull himself together, step over them, and leave the adjoining room. 

Forrest wasn’t in the bedroom when he entered, and he’d left the door of the closet ajar. Alex turned his head and followed the smell of freshly ground coffee into the kitchen where he saw that Forrest had gotten dressed for the day. His jean jacket was already on his shoulders and he’d put his array of rings back along his fingers like he did every morning. Taking them off to go to bed was a task in itself. Alex found them fascinating, reminding him of his own youth. But, when it came to the bed, he was more than willing to help him remove them. 

“Smells good,” he said, leaning against the threshold separating the hallway and the kitchen.

“That’s because I made it.”

“Bold statement.”

“I dare you to find the lie,” Forrest hummed, with his back to Alex. 

When he did turn around to see Alex without a shirt and his pretty brown hair sticking to his forehead in an incredibly sexy way, he restrained himself from opening his mouth in awe. “Tell me what it’s going to take for you to only look like this around the house.”

Alex chuckled, his smile elongating his happiness. “You’re going to have to be a good boy,” he said, biting his bottom lip. “Aren’t you?”

Forrest braced himself against the countertop, watching as Alex prowled towards him. On a mission to destroy him before nine a.m. He was nodding furiously and hadn’t seemed to stop until Alex was but an inch from his face. He looked up as he towered slightly above him which made him feel so much smaller. But hot. 

So fucking hot. 

He felt Alex’s strong arms on his waist and groaned into his touch. Alex was biting softly at his neck which was better than it felt somehow. He was still being gentle because he didn’t really want to leave a noticeable mark. Forrest would have just worn a scarf for the day, but Alex had made note of how the scarf on a gay man was the lowest form of clothing choice. 

When his lips moved from Forrest’s neck to his mouth, he let himself slip into havoc and bliss. It was soft and then messy and then ferocious. Their tongues intertwined and for a moment, Forrest let himself feel every part of Alex. He then realised he hadn’t been touching him and instantly let himself roam his hands all over Alex’s bare chest. But, that had somehow lit a match inside Alex’s head, because he recoiled at the touch, taking two steps backwards. Forrest chased the inhibited kiss before letting his arms drop beside him; confused. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

“Nothing―”

Forrest watched him, pondering. “Was it about that dream?”

Alex didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to let Forrest know that it was. He was looking at the floor again so Forrest crossed his arms over his chest, raising his eyebrows, ready and waiting for a one-way conversation.

“I heard you, this morning,” he said. “You were mumbling in your sleep.”

Alex didn’t look up from the floor. Forrest couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or concern. “You’ve been doing it all week. Saying his name. Saying―”

“Yes,” Alex replied before he could go any further. “Yes, I’ve been dreaming about him,” He looked up from the floor and tried to avoid Forrest’s eyes because it just made him feel worse. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? Why are you sorry?”

“They’re lucid,” he blurted out. “They’re lucid and I enjoy it.”

Forrest watched him. He was desperate in a way. Convinced that he’d committed an act of indecency. His pupils had fallen and he was lost despite the fact they were only a few feet apart. 

“Alex, you know that’s not cheating.”

“I know, it’s just―” he sighed.

“Come here,” Forrest replied, softly. Alex walked back over to him and leant his head against Forrest’s chest. He didn’t move his arms and waited until Forrest wrapped his own around him so he could exhale and lean into his scent: vanilla and coffee. 

They stood like that for several seconds. “Feel better?” Forrest mumbled into his hair. Alex let out a huff of recognition and was just about to wrap his arms back around him until Forrest spoke again. “Not to pour salt in a wound, but I have something to tell you.”

Alex lifted his head―not recoiling―and watched his eyes in an attempt to figure it out. 

“He was outside again last night,” Alex rolled his eyes at Forrest, giving himself a bit of room. “He was waiting for me.”

“No he wasn’t,” Alex sighed. 

“Yes, he was. He told me to leave you alone.”

“No, he tried to come in the house and apologise for the other day―” he stopped. “Wait, did you say, ‘he told you to leave me alone?’”

Once again stepping back to leave a few inches between them, Alex crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking that of his boyfriend. 

“Yes, Alex,” Forrest said, almost frustrated. “He was there, on the porch, with that smug grin and his cowboy hat and all the swagger that came along with it and he told me to stop leading you on.” Alex let out an unintentional scoff that he tried to hide with his fist. 

“He thinks I have an agenda!” Forrest continued. 

“No, that’s not—But he came to apologize.”

“Alex, the only reason he has now interrupted five of the seven dates we have actually managed to have is that he wants you back.”

Raising his eyebrow, Alex challenged Forrest with an incredulous glare. “Have you been keeping count of how many dates we’ve had?” 

“That’s not the point—but, yes, I have.”

Alex lowered his arms from his chest. He didn’t want to move too close to Forrest, just in case, he was still on edge about the whole, ex-boyfriend-stalking-you-and-now-me thing. He’d threatened Michael twice with physical violence and three times with exposure. Not that he would have done that if his life were on the line. Michael, in turn, had flirtatiously accepted the want for Alex’s physical touch and unceremoniously received a bruise from his flying crutch. It wasn’t profound, but it was the only way he eventually got him to leave. 

Until Forrest came home. 

Alex was mature enough to know when enough was enough. “I’ve told you more than ten times now that I want you,” he told Forrest, his hands gesturing toward him. “Michael is my past.”

“I know that, but—”

“You are my boyfriend, Forrest. Not Michael,” he says. “You are one of the smartest people I know, but could you stop being so fucking stupid and get that through your head, please. Michael can pine all he wants but eventually, he’s going to give up and lay his roots elsewhere, ok?”

“You’re sure?”

Alex creased a smile. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You’re not going to kill him, are you?” Forrest said, flitting between a smile and a frown. “Not that I would be against that.”

“Please, if I wanted him dead, you’d never have known.”

“Is it wrong that I found the way you said that ridiculously hot?”

“Not one bit.”

Finally calculating the moment correctly, Alex removed the space between them and kissed Forrest again. This time was softer. Only brushing against his lips to know he had done it at all. Because Forrest had chuckled after the third or fourth peck, making Alex remove his lips and look into his eyes instead. 

“What’s so funny?”

Forrest groaned in frustration. “I have to go—did I not tell you that?”

“Guess we got too caught up in the moment. Does my persuading need to be dialled back?”

“God, no! Please—never dial it back.”

Alex smirked, kissing him one last time. “I know. Library opens at nine on a Wednesday. You have,” he looks at the clock on the wall behind Forrest, “fourteen minutes to get there.”

“Ten if I break the speed limit.”

“I’d rather not have you in handcuffs unless I’m the one putting them on you, thank you.” Forrest melted at his words but knew better than to kiss him again. It was a cat and mouse game with them, knowing one of them would set off the other’s destructive lust and then it was hours later and they’d wasted the morning. Sometimes it didn’t matter, but today it did.

“I’ll see you for lunch. One-thirty ok?”

“Definitely.”

Forrest pouted, then smiled, then walked towards the door. This happened most days when they would avoid saying goodbye to each other. It was partially due to Alex having to say goodbye to Michael throughout his years coming back and forth from his deployment. This reason he had not disclosed to Forrest, choosing instead to refer to it as ‘what normal couples do.’ He didn’t want to be normal and Forrest had happily agreed. 

Hearing the door closed was an incentive for Alex to actually sit down. His leg wasn’t in pain, per se, but he did need to ease off in the mornings. He wasn’t ready for an early afternoon pain-infused struggle that would have definitely happened if he didn’t go easy this morning. 

The coffee was still steaming when he poured it into the nearest mug. Much necessary sustenance needed to fuel his ever-growing desire that had failed to vacate when Forrest left the house. He looked down at his pants to the semi that was poking out and wondered whether it was the nightmare of Michael, the shower, Forrest, or a combination of all three that had set it off. 

He shook his head and put the coffee to his lips. Indulging in the feeling before it had even gone down his throat—

But then the front door swung open. 

He heard it hit the wall with a loud bang. A frustrated bang that would almost definitely have put a dent in Alex’s wall. This, somehow, managed to escape his mind. 

“For fu—did you forget your keys again?” Alex looked over at the countertop next to the fridge, and low and behold, the keys were sat in the bowl they always were. 

Alex muttered something under his breath that could have been strung together when he uttered the words, ‘blue’, ‘idiot’, ‘hair’, and 'hot’. Not necessarily in that order. He was frustrated and horny. Not a good combination to have when your boyfriend just left the house and was coming back for something that wasn’t him.

He grabbed the keys from the bowl and walked around the corner. “Forrest, I can’t believe—”

There was shock, followed by realisation, followed by desire, followed by disgust. Alex managed to get through several emotions before he managed to realise that he was being kissed, and another few emotions to realise that he was being kissed by Michael Guerin. 

First, he was standing there by the door, then he was kissing him fast. Probably because he knew it wouldn’t last very long, but was hoping it would. The door had shut at some point, but not by Michael pushing it with his hand. Alex’s mind had scattered at how he managed to multi-task when one of the tasks was crowding Alex in his own kitchen and exploring his mouth with his tongue. 

Alex had dropped the keys to the floor before Michael had pushed him back so Alex’s bare back was against the countertop. He assumed Michael wasn’t expecting him to be shirtless. But gratefully surprised to be able to touch his skin again, which was what he was doing now. Trying to find the unnoticed, soft dip in Alex’s skin just above his waist that nobody knew about except for Michael. It was blissful when he touched him there, and for a moment Alex forgot about everything. 

Their tongues were fighting with one another and Michael had managed to win every time, pushing Alex back, touching him in places that only he knew, and then he looked down at Alex’s pants and saw his semi slowly becoming more. 

Michael smirked into the kissing before rubbing his hand over the sweatpants. Alex let out a guttural moan and grabbed him by the hand that was doing the job. With all of his strength, he pulled back from Michael’s mouth and looked at his red lips. There seemed to be teeth marks everywhere, but it couldn't have been any longer than a minute, and he didn’t recall removing his mouth from Michael’s. 

“Shit—!” Alex said, putting his hands up to cover his mouth. 

“Well, that lasted longer than I thought it would.”

His cocky banter fell away with ease. Alex was not in the mood. He couldn’t believe he just did that. But all he could think of was how good it felt. 

“You have to go,” was all he managed to utter out. 

“Oh, just when we were getting started? Alex, you wound me.”

He was laughing. Actually laughing. Alex couldn’t see the funny side. He only saw the horror and disgust and unmistakable desire and hunger for Guerin right there and then. But in no way was it funny. 

“Stop laughing—! No. I can’t—I can’t be this person.”

“Alex, trust me, you’re not the bad guy here. If you want, I can leave, but your pants seem to be telling me a different story,” he raised his eyebrow down and Alex very decisively did not look down, “One of us must be doing something right and two of us most certainly must be doing something wrong.” He moved forwards in an attempt to kiss Alex again but was met with a slap to the face. 

“How could you!” he half-shouted. 

Michael was holding his face. “How could I? You just slapped me.”

“I’m human. I can’t control my fucking emotions. Especially around you. And especially when I’ve been having sex dreams about you for the past few weeks—” Realising what he said, Alex moved out from Michael’s crowding. He gave them a good three, four metres before stopping.

Michael lowered his hand from his face and turned to face Alex. “Is your boyfriend not satisfying you enough?”

“Stop!”

“Because if you’re dreaming of having sex with me, then he must be doing something wrong.”

“Guerin, I said stop!”

“Oh, this is too good,” Michael laughed. Alex knew it was either going to be serious or sarcasm with him. It always was. Unfortunately, he’d chosen the latter. “Alex, I know you said to stay away, but your boyfriend is not enough—”

“How dare you!” Alex shouted. “Newsflash, Guerin! Assholes don’t get salvation,” he’d clenched his fists down by his sides and was shaking them in an attempt to control the temper. “I don’t have to explain my relationship to you, Guerin. You don’t get to come in like this and catch me off guard, and touch me and make me feel like you and I are still together. I can’t do that anymore.”

“Then what was that, then?” Michael said.

Alex sighed, somewhere between annoyance and surrender. “That was the act of a man who was still on a high from his boyfriend kissing him in the morning when the sun was barely up and there were no worries to follow the rest of the day.”

He took a step closer to Michael. “That was the act of a man who was taken by surprise by a man not recognisable to him at first and was assumed to be his boyfriend until he saw his face.”

Another step.

“That was the act of a man who knew he wanted something that he could not have, so devised a lucid interpretation of said act so he could not be accused of cheating.”

The final step and he was face to face with Michael. He saw him gulp down. The lump in his throat, a definition he was unlikely to ever forget. 

“That was the act of a man who fell in love when he was seventeen with a boy who was not what he assumed to be. The act of a man who let that boy go in hopes that it would please his father for the sake of acceptance in any capacity. The act of a man that knew that boy he fell in love with had waited all these years for him and even when he returned, refused to acknowledge his love in return,” he paused, lingering at the sight of Michael’s lips, and watched as he held his composure, waiting for Alex to finish.

He leant up and whispered in his ear, “That was the act of a man who realised he was still in love with you, Michael, but can’t have you.”

He stepped away and left the room.

Leaving Michael alone to ponder his thoughts. It was cruel. It was ungodly. But necessary to allow the moment to pass as if they hadn’t just been attacking each other’s faces with their mouths. 

Michael breathed out the air he’d been holding. He touched his fingers to his lips and then trembled at the realisation: Alex was not his boyfriend, Alex was not his person, Alex was not the person he would spend the rest of his life with.

But Alex would always, always, be in love with him.


End file.
